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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617160">Morning's fog</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis'>duesternis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>together, now [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast, Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, i love breakfast installments</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The kettle whistled.<br/>Thomas poured water over the tea leaves and then opened the back door, just as the sure, heavy tread of boots became noticable over the birds.<br/>Three times scraped on the mat.</p><p>Thomas stirred the leaves in the pot, heart thudding away.<br/>Oh, the glory of this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>together, now [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Morning's fog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wrote this whole thing b/c of the mental image of Nedward Little walking through the fog like mister darcy in the 2005 movie adaption.<br/>You're welcome</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas woke to a warm room, the curtains still tightly drawn. He rubbed his eyes, stretched his toes and sat up.<br/>
The small stove by the bedside crackled with the fire inside and he smiled, swinging his legs out from under the covers.<br/>
His slippers were where he had left them last night and he smoothed his nightshirt down over his thighs.</p><p>The other half of the bed was crisply made, pillow fluffed and blanket tucked in.<br/>
He touched it. Cool to his palm.<br/>
Thomas sighed and opened the curtains to wispy fog in the garden and the rising sun barely more than a glow behind it all.<br/>
His robe hung by the stove, pleasantly warmed by proximity, but Thomas only indulged in it long enough to sort his clothes for the day out.<br/>
He’d never be one to luxuriate the morning away in his robe.<br/>
Neither of them would be.<br/>
God bless.</p><p>Thomas washed with the cool water from the basin, shaved and dressed.<br/>
Aired the bed and room, turned the stove down to a simmer and then went down the steep stairs and into the kitchen.<br/>
The stone floor was scrubbed to a dull shine and here the stove was also hot already.<br/>
The kettle filled and tea already portioned out. A covered bowl sat on the oak table and Thomas lifted the tea towel curiously.<br/>
Soft, white dough. Perfect for little bread rolls, perfect for breakfast.<br/>
He smiled and rolled his sleeves up.<br/>
Time to get to work, then.</p><p> </p><p>A good half hour later twelve little bread rolls merrily baked in the oven, the kettle almost boiled and Thomas was busy picking out a jam from the stores, when the creaky gate latch did its best to spook every bird around the house.<br/>
The kettle whistled.<br/>
Thomas poured water over the tea leaves and then opened the back door, just as the sure, heavy tread of boots became noticable over the birds.<br/>
Three times scraped on the mat.<br/>
Thomas stirred the leaves in the pot, heart thudding away.<br/>
Oh, the glory of this.</p><p>Two careful thuds by the deep stone basin and pump.<br/>
"Rabbits or pheasant?"<br/>
"Rabbits."<br/>
Then the huff and groan it always took to get boots off. Thomas smiled and strained the tea into the porcelain pot.</p><p>"Wash your hands and then please take the rolls out of the oven. We can eat in a moment."<br/>
"Alright."<br/>
A pair of boots orderly left by the open backdoor, the long, dark coat hung from its peg and two rabbits in the basin.<br/>
The kitchen smelled like tea and rolls and the earthy smell from the garden, still wet with the night.<br/>
Then the warm, welcome smell of wool and sweat and simple soap.<br/>
The splash of water and Thomas‘ tea towel was stolen.</p><p>"Let the rolls cool by the door for a moment."<br/>
Thomas poured two cups of tea and carried one over to the door, where Edward carefully placed the baking sheet on the small window sill. The window had never opened, the latch stuck with layers of white paint. The light it let in was glorious, though.<br/>
"Thank you."<br/>
Edward smiled and took the cup and saucer with his habitual care, took a sip, eyes steady on Thomas.<br/>
The little shiver down his spine could easily be attributed to the cool morning air curling around their feet.<br/>
"Did you sleep well?"</p><p>Thomas nodded, his own cup cradled to his chest, saucer forgotten on the counter.<br/>
"Thank you, for getting the stoves going, Ned."<br/>
Edward shook his head and touched Thomas‘ elbow with a warm hand.<br/>
"I didn’t want you to get cold."<br/>
"And breakfast on the table is surely a comfort, when one comes home from the traps."<br/>
Thomas laughed and Edward smiled at him, hand still on Thomas‘ elbow.</p><p>"You are a comfort, Thomas."<br/>
He flushed and Thomas pressed a kiss to his whiskered cheek.<br/>
"I’ll get your slippers, Ned. Sit down, will you?"<br/>
Edward squeezed Thomas‘ elbow and nodded, finishing his tea before sitting down.<br/>
Thomas crossed the quaint hallway into their cozy sitting room, finding Edward’s slippers thrown carelessly under one of the tables.<br/>
With a fond smile he carried them into the kitchen and habitually knelt down by Edward, slipping the shoes over his warm socks.</p><p>They looked at each other like that, cheeks suddenly flushed and Thomas‘ heart stuttered in his chest.<br/>
Edward looked incredibly handsome like that: hair tousled, beard still uncombed and cheeks flushed fetchingly.<br/>
But the position, the circumstance, gave it a taste they both tried to avoid. And slip ups like that happened less and less, but well.<br/>
He’d done this more years than anything else: helping gentlemen with the most mundane tasks. Sometimes it was hard to shake the old habits.<br/>
"Apologies."<br/>
He rose and smoothed his sleeves down, quickly doing the cuffs up.<br/>
Edward rose too and shook his shaggy head, eyes so earnest.</p><p>"No, please. It has no shame for me when you want to be kind, Thomas. I cherish your kindness."<br/>
Thomas smiled tightly and went to grab the rolls from the sill.<br/>
Edward held the bread basket for him, scarred hands steady and sure. His shoulder was pressed up against Thomas‘ and the comfort was tangible, like cotton fluff in the air.<br/>
"Thank you."<br/>
"Think nothing of it, Thomas."</p><p>This time it was Edward who kissed Thomas on the cheek, before he carried tea and bread to the table.<br/>
They sat and ate.<br/>
Outside the fog dissipated and the sun carefully peered in through the open back door. The chickens outside clucked in their pen.<br/>
"You let them out?"<br/>
"Before I went, yes. I didn’t get the eggs yet."<br/>
"Did you forget?"<br/>
Edward flushed and busied himself with more tea for them both. Thomas laughed and gently touched his wrist, rubbed the dark hair and the pulse point with his thumb, glad for these easy things.<br/>
"We’ll have them for lunch then. Boiled, with green beans, perhaps. Some ham."<br/>
"I’ll gut the rabbits for the weekend."</p><p>Thomas hummed and tangled his feet with Edward’s under the table.<br/>
"I’ll have to go into town, get some necessities. Do you need anything special, Ned?"<br/>
Edward looked up from dripping honey on his bread roll and licked his lips in thought. It made Thomas curl his toes inside his slippers.<br/>
Such a handsome man.</p><p>"Maybe new shaving soap. I’m almost run out."<br/>
"Shaving soap?"<br/>
Thomas eyed the virtual forest on Edward’s cheeks with a critical eyebrow.<br/>
Edward tugged on his muttonchops and smoothed a hand over the thinner part that almost covered his chin fully.<br/>
He grinned.<br/>
"I’m thinking about cleaning this up for the weekend."<br/>
Thomas laughed.</p><p>"Not clean-shaven, please. I’m quite fond of the chops."<br/>
He leaned over the table and gently carded his fingers through the thick, dark hair. It was soft with oil and the skin below was warm and dear to Thomas.<br/>
All of Edward was dear to Thomas.<br/>
"If you have such an attachment to them, maybe I should let you care for them."<br/>
Thomas smiled and gave a last, gentle tug to Edward’s beard.<br/>
"Just ask me right out, if you want me to shave you, Ned. No need to beat around the bush. I do believe we’re quiet beyond that, my dear."</p><p>Edward flushed and busied himself with eating for a few moments.<br/>
Thomas indulged in some more tea, one weather eye on the stove. It would need another log soon.<br/>
As the wood shifted in the stove, a bird called outside and Edward cleared his throat. His legs flexed against Thomas' where they were tangled under the table and Thomas looked at him, catching Edward's open gaze.</p><p>"I’d like that very much, Thomas."<br/>
"Good, sir. I’ll get some more shaving soap then."<br/>
He smiled at Edward and Edward smiled back.</p><p>The sun spilled gold on the scrubbed stone floor and Thomas was warm.<br/>
Truly, this time, they could say and write, and often did both, two fateful words:</p><p>All well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading and feel very free to leave a comment &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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